Barking At The Moon
by Fuzzball457
Summary: Witch hunts never go well. Especially not when annoying little brothers come out as puppy dogs.
1. Chapter 1

**Man is it nice to finally have something to upload! So this is just a little fluffy thing I wrote as a belated birthday present for my best friend. There will be two more parts to be added hopefully within a week or two. **

**Happy 16th, Jessie! Here is your h/c Weechester w/ tons of fluffy cuteness as promised!**

**Beta: no, all mistakes are my own**

**Barking At The Moon  
>Part I<strong>

Hate was not a strong enough word to describe my animosity towards witches. For starters they never played fair. A witch loved nothing more than to throw a curveball in the midst of a fight and a witch hunt rarely went off without a hitch, usually at the expense of a the hunter. Always be prepared for anything on a witch hunt, Dad had always said.

Having said that, at that moment I was starting to crave some action. Because it was pretty friggin hard to kill a witch if you couldn't find her. And just wandering around was getting real boring real quick.

There had been many strange deaths in the town of Roanoke, Virginia and one Mrs. Abigail Richards was conveniently benefiting from every murder. And sure enough, when Dad, Sam, and I broke in to her house through her back window, they found loads of witchcraft type things scattered around the house. The evidence was certainly there, but the witch herself wasn't.

We had searched the first floor before splitting up, Sam and I to the basement and Dad to the top floor. Although I loved any hunt and the adrenaline rush that came with it, I had to admit it was starting to get to the point where I just wanted to find the bitch and get the hell out of dodge. After all, the longer they were there the more likely something would go wrong. And according to Winchester Law, something had to go wrong.

"Come out, come out where ever you are," I called. Sam shot me a look. After all, giving away our position wouldn't help any. Though it was only a single room and it was small at that. There were boxes lined along the wall but hardly enough for a full grown adult to hide behind. Now that I thought about it, the basement was significantly smaller than the first floor.

Sam stood across the room by a bookshelf. His weapon was still half-heartedly raised but his attention was on the books. He dragged his finger across the dust on their spines, marveling at some of the titles.

"Later, geek-boy," I whispered, suddenly right behind him. Sam jumped and whipped around, gun raised, only to come face to face with his grinning brother.

Sam's bitchy retort was cut off when my phone suddenly vibrated and I pulled it from my pocket.

"Hello?" I said without lowering his weapon. Constant vigilance. Another John Winchester lesson drilled deep in my head.

"Any luck?" Dad's voice said from the other end.

"No, you?"

"Why would I ask if I'd found her?" Dad getting snappy was always a cue that the hunt was taking too long. He may not look it, but Dad possessed almost endless patience when it came to hunting. Patience that somehow always seemed to disappear when dealing with Sam.

"So what? Call it quits and come back tomorrow? Maybe she went out or something?" Dad sighed audibly.

"Just meet me in the living room and we'll figure out what to do."

"Yes, sir," I snapped the phone shut. "Alright, Sammy, Dad says…Sam?" The small room was completely devoid of one fifteen-year old brother. "Sam? Quit fooling, we need to get upstairs." A muffled thump came from the boxes next to the bookcase.

I darted over while shouting his brother's name. I tore the boxes aside to reveal…nothing. Just a wall with wood paneling. There was another thump, this time from the other side of the bookcase. Thinking I'd misplaced it the first time, I went around that side and moved those boxes. It was then, as I stared at the empty space behind the boxes that it occurred to me that the noise was not coming from by the wall, it was coming from _behind_ the wall. There was a room or something back there. That explained the small size…And somehow Sam had gotten back there, but how?

I started furiously pounding along the paneling, trying to get through. Of course there was a secret room – classic witch house – why didn't I think of it before? And now Sammy was probably trapped back there with that monster…I could feel my heart beating faster and his breathing pick up.

Tiny drops of blood began to slide down my fingers as I tried to pull back the paneling, tiny splinters slicing through the skin. "Sammy!" I called, throwing my entire weight against the wood. "Leave him alone, you bitch!"

"Dean?" I froze for a second before realizing it was Dad and it was coming from behind me. "What on earth are you doing?"

"Sam!" As if that explained it. But apparently it did, because after a moment of confusion, Dad's eyes widened and he ran over to my side. "How did Sam get back there?" Dad asked quickly.

There was another thump – like a body being thrown around, I thought with sick apprehension – and an accompanying cry of pain. Blood pumping furiously now, I started banging on the wood with his bloody fists.

"Dean - Dean!" Dad shouted, grabbing hold of my wrists. "Dean, focus. What was Sam doing before?"

"I-I don't know…standing here…" I trailed off as I caught sight of the finger tracks through the dust. There was a red book, average size compared to the rest, on which the tracks stopped. In fact there was a little circle like pressure had been applied, maybe even accidentally.

It was so clichéd I wanted to laugh. Of course the way into the secret room was book on the bookshelf.

With the force of worried adrenaline, I ripped myself from my father's grasp and all but punched the red book through the wall.

A panel on the right slid open and I was through it almost before it was fully open. It was a significantly larger room. The walls had tables and bookshelves lining them and weird symbols were painted across the walls and floor. I recognized about half of them and it suddenly occurred to me just how much could be learned from a witch if they weren't all murdering bastards. But then again, maybe they weren't…after all, hunters only noticed supernatural things when there were enough deaths or disappearances to attract their attention.

Abigail stood in the center of the room, turning to face me when I entered, Dad at my heels. Her green eyes flashed dangerously and her hair started blowing with a mysterious wind. Sam was standing behind her leaning up against the wall he had most likely just crashed into.

She threw her hands out to each side like she was about to take a bow. An inhuman howl escaped from her lips and power seemed to crash off of her in a tidal wave. I was knocked up against the wall behind me and Dad fell half way through the door. Brown hair flew back from Sam's face as he went backwards, his gangly legs tangling up in themselves. The sound of splitting wood filled the room as Sam went through the table behind him. Wood collapsed down on him as well as several glass jars filled with strange colored liquid.

"Sam!" I called. With a simply wave, my feet slid out from under me and I landed painfully on my hip. "Alright you know what, bitch? I've had it up to here. Now you die." I took careful aim in less than a second and had the shot off in another. The consecrated iron ploughed into her heart and she jerked back. The long auburn strands fell limply to her shoulders as the mysterious wind ended and her body collapsed back in a beautiful arc. Her pale hand tumbled off to the side landing next to her and opening to reveal a six-pointed star tattooed on her palm.

"Good riddance." I accompanied the statement with a roll of the eyes. "Sam?" I asked when my little brother was yet to get up. And, come to think of it, Sam seemed to disappear completely. His legs – the only thing I had been able to see of Sam – were no longer visible and there was just _no_ way Sam was small enough to hide under that tiny pile of rubble. The kid was growing like a frikkin' reed for crying out loud!

"Sam?" Dad's authoritative voice came from behind me. There was no movement, which disturbed me more. That was Dad's do-what-I-say-and-do-it-now voice which Sam always responded too, unless of course they were fighting. And the tiny spat they'd had in the car on the way here did not even qualify as a fight – not compared to some of the shit they usually threw at each other.

I dropped to my knees, ignoring the flare of pain at the bone-concrete contact, and began pulling planks of wood away. Bloody fingerprints smeared across them as I tossed them the wood behind me. _This wasn't possible…_The pile was getting smaller and smaller and still no Sam.

Finally, my fingers brushed something. Something soft…I wracked his brain to remember what jacket Sam had been wearing. Funny how small details slipped away so easily…

But it wasn't Sam, or his jacket for that matter, underneath.

It was fur. More specifically, it was a dog – well a puppy really.

Dog breeds were certainly not my forte (though I didn't doubt that Sam could list off a good twenty even though he had no need for them) but I recognized a border collie when I saw one. My friend from a past school, Jake, had a big black and white border collie, Mack of something like that. And this, this small thing lying before me, was certainly a border collie.

But Sam was not a border collie and I wanted _Sam. _

"Is-is that a _dog?" _Dad asked incredulously. _A better question,_ I thought, _was _how_ it was a dog._

"Sam?" I asked sounded disbelieving even to my own ears. It couldn't be…that just didn't make sense…but it _did. _Witch hunts equaled the impossible becoming possible.

"I, you don't think…"

"Who knows. All this crap," I gestured to the spilled potions seeping across the ground, "fell on him, anything could have been in them."

I reached out slowly - and no that was not my hand shaking, it was my mind playing tricks on me – and gently prodded the slowly rising stomach of the puppy.

The eyes slid open and turned to face me and in that one moment, I just _knew. _It was Sam and somehow Sam had gone from Sam to dog. Because those eyes were most definitely my brother's. And holy crap, if I thought Sam had powerful puppy dog eyes before…well now there was an actual puppy to match.

The puppy – _Sam! – _was about a foot and a half high with long fur. His hind quarters were black but most of his front was white. His head had two ovals of black each covering one eye and running up along his pointy ears. There was a definite snout complete with a moist black nose and a pink tounge. And the soft eyes that just made you want to melt…

"Sammy?" I asked softly. Sam's dog head tilted to the side just the way Sam did when he didn't understand why I was feeling what I was feeling, which at the moment was concern. The soft front legs moved into an awkward position that I guessed was Sam trying to prop up his elbows, but the dog legs didn't work the same and he was soon on the ground. Little wrinkles appeared on his nose as Sam looked down to figure out why such a simply task had failed and froze. Little dog eyes widened and a small noise, practically a whimper, escaped him. His respiration immediately picked up and limbs began to scramble this way and that.

Dog or not, Sam was still my little brother. And big brothers did not allow little brothers to panic without trying to help. As if acting on their own, my hands shot out and gently wrapped around Sam, holding him still. "Whoa, Sammy, relax." Sorrowful puppy eyes turned to me – holy shit those things had power when turned on 24/7 – and Sam opened his mouth, releasing a half-hearted bark. He looked mildly surprised at himself and I had to stifle laughter.

"Come on, let's get out of here," Dad said while running a hand through his hair.

"But Dad-" _my brother is still a dog. _

"You bring Sam up to the car, I'll see if I can find something to put some of these potions that spilled on him in. Then we'll head back to the motel, get in contact with some people and try and figure out how to turn him back."

I nodded, happy to have a plan, and scooped my furry brother into his arms. Sam whined lightly and burrowed closer into my leather jacket.

"It's okay, Sammy, we'll figure this out," I said softly, so only his brother could hear. If anything, I felt more protective of Sam now.

Once they were all in the car speeding back to the hotel, I voiced the question that had silently been plaguing us all.

"What if we can't get him back?" Both pairs of eyes drifted down the small puppy curled up in my lap while my fingers softly stroked the furry head.

"We will, Dean, we will."

And of course it was true because we wouldn't stop until we did.

* * *

><p>Bobby groaned as he climbed up his front steps while nursing his bruised and achy back. He was getting too old for this crap.<p>

The phone started ringing just as Bobby entered the house, eliciting some dark mutterings from the older hunter.

"What?" he demanded gruffly.

"Bobby, we got a problem." As much as Bobby loved the Winchesters, they certainly could be a pain sometimes. Bobby was one of the few hunters who Dad was still friends with because Dad had pissed off most of the rest.

"What?"

"Sam's a dog." Of all the things he expected out of John Winchester's mouth, proclaiming his youngest son was a dog was not something he had expected.

"You wanna run that by me again?"

"There was a witch hunt and, long story short, Sam landed in a bunch of potions and came out a dog."

"You know what the potion was?"

"No idea, but I managed to gather some samples of some of the stuff."

"Where are you?"

"Roanoke, Virginia." Thankfully, Bobby was only in West Virginia, having taken a rawhead hunt there.

"I'll see what I can scrounge up tonight then head over tomorrow morning."

"Thanks, Bobby," Dad said sincerely.

"Don't mention it, Johnny-boy." Bobby hung up then collapsed on the couch.

Those Winchesters had worst damn luck.

TBC...


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey guys! This chapters a little shorter but it seemed an okay place to stop. There's actually going to be one more part becuase I didn't want to stick the last part in this part. Anyway, onwards!**

**Also, I switched to first person (Dean POV) because it felt better. I went back and changed the first chapter just so they're the same. **

**BETA: none, all mistakes are my own.**

**Barking At The Moon  
>Part II<strong>

I let out a long sigh as my gaze drifted over to Sam. The small dog was curled up on the back of the couch, looking longingly out the window.

It was reaching two in the afternoon the day after my brother had gone from boy to dog. By unspoken agreement, we'd been staying inside. It wasn't a problem for Dad and I – we were researching after all – but poor Sammy had nothing to do. He'd slept in later than usual, then busied himself with learning the more intricate functions of being a dog, such as how to walk backwards without stepping on one's tail, but eventually that too had gotten old.

Lunch was an interesting affair. We didn't have any idea what people food dogs could and couldn't have and there was no way in hell I was giving Sam dog food! So eventually we'd decided on ordering grilled chicken. It had been pretty amusing to see Sam attempt to eat it without opposable thumbs (having not mastered the dog-meat-on-bone munch) and I had eventually taken pity on him and cut the meat off the bone.

But now he had nothing to do. So he simply stared out at the beautiful blue sky and slowly drifting clouds. Now, I'm not really the outdoors, biking in the woods, stopping to smell the flowers, kind of guy but even I could tell a great day when I saw one. And for Sam, who if nothing else was a soccer-loving kid, staying inside on such a day was clearly torture.

"Think I'm gonna go for a walk, wanna come Sammy-boy?" The nickname Sammy-boy had gotten an entirely new meaning that was even more enjoyable to tease Sam with. And right now the kid could use any pick-me-up I had to offer.

But my tease didn't even get the slightest rise out of him. Instead he just turned sorrowful dog eyes on me and half-heartedly jumped off the couch over to me.

"Don't be more than an hour, Bobby should be hear soon," Dad called without looking up. I waved my hand in acknowledgment as I pulled the door closed behind me.

I damn near tripped over Sam who had frozen a foot in front of me.

"Sammy?" I called, kneeling down. He looked at me and I thought to myself that if his eyes got any bigger they'd fall right out of his head. He lifted his wet nose to the air and I suddenly understood.

As a dog everything, smell, sounds, the whole nine, was heightened. So if I could hear the birds and enjoy the smell of fresh air, then Sam…

"Feel good?"

Obviously he said nothing, but there was more spring in his step.

Even I enjoyed the change of scenery and fresh air. Once we reached the park, I stretched out on a bench while Sam chased a squirell. Whether he did it for fun or simply for my amusement, I didn't know. Probably a little of both. It's not every day you get to be a dog, after all, might as well make the best of it.

Once the little grey creature was good and terrorized, Sam stretched out in the sun, letting it warm his fur. It made me smile fondly. It wasn't an ideal situation, not even a _good_ situation, but Sam, being the trooper he was, was making the best of it. Enjoying being a dog and not pining for his lost human form. He was optimistic that we would figure out how to turn him back – perhaps the most optimistic of all of us – and was content to explore the new outlook on life while it lasted. My heart swelled with pride.

A baseball came out of nowhere, landing next to Sam. He jumped a little then looked at it curiously. Maybe his doggy instincts were telling him to pounce and play.

Two little feet clad in red sneakers came running and stopped next to the ball. The feet were attached to a slightly pudgy little boy with sandy hair. His striped red and white t-shirt had some grass stains on it telling of his day of play. A grubby hand bent down to grab the ball but he froze when he saw the dog.

"Puppy!" he shouted so happily that it sounded as though someone had just declared him King of the World.

A pair of long hands grabbed the little boy by the underarms before he could grab Sam.

"Now, Jeremy, be polite," the woman said firmly. She turned to look at me with a smile. If she didn't have the extra baggage named Jeremy, I would have been flirting with her faster than you could say 'Hot'. But I didn't do woman with baggage. She had golden hair and a slim figure and her yellow sundress was girl-next-door pretty.

"Is he yours?" she said with a nod of her head towards Sam.

My heart did a weird flip.

_Yes. Yes, Sam _is_ mine. Human or dog, he is mine. _In fact, no one had more claim to Sam than I did. Not even Dad. Dad had sold me the Sammy Property long ago. And I took full possession (perhaps a little too possessive sometimes) with pride.

I flashed her a patented Dean Winchester grin and nodded.

"Puppy!" Jeremy wailed, arms stretched out wide towards Sam. He turned and gave a small tug on her dress. "Momma, doggy!"

She looked up at me and asked (in a _very _pretty voice, I might add) "Do you mind? Jeremy's really quite gentle and he just loves dogs." I was willing to say yes to anything right about then if it meant I got a few minutes alone with that smoking babe, but I reminded myself it was Sam who was going to have to play with the brat. I stole a quick glance at Sam out of the corner of my eye. Sam gave a small nod.

"I don't mind at all." There was that pretty smile of hers again. Maybe I could make an exception for the no-baggage rule…

"What's his name?"

"Sammy," then because Sam had complained about my musical selection the other day, I added, "Hagar. Sammy Hagar."

A strange smile crossed her face. I didn't expect her to understand, she was after all a _mom,_ I doubted she listened to my type of music.

"Like from Van Halen?"

I blinked. Oh this chick was good.

"Yeah," I said. Time to make a move. That way if she turned me down I didn't have to waste any time flirting with her. "Though I must say I didn't expect a pretty little thing like yourself to listen to Van Halen."

Her eyes widened slightly, but she didn't seem offended. "Go play with the puppy, Jeremy," she said distractedly. Sam shot me a look – somehow he still managed to convey the bitch face in dog form – and steeled himself for the oncoming toddler. Meanwhile Miss. Van Halen Mom stepped closer to me.

"Trust me," she said in a low and, dare I say it, seductive voice, "I'm full of a lot more surprises than that, pretty boy, if you catch my drift." My jaw almost dropped. Almost. I had a reputation to maintain, after all.

"Is that so?"

Before her soft lips could form a reply, there was a pitiful whine from behind us. Jeremy was sitting atop Sam, squishing the poor pup.

"Hey!" I shouted. With perhaps a bit more force than was strictly necessary, I picked the kid up and pulled him off Sam.

"Hey!" the woman shouted, barely catching Jeremy before he fell over. "Don't manhandle my son!" I could see the protective, possessive parent in her eyes.

"Well don't let your son sit his fat ass on my br-dog!" I shouted back, equally protective and possessive. I scooped Sam into my arms just as she had Jeremy in her arms. We squared off, both in the same position with our respective charges.

She turned to go, but not before turning and saying, "Hagar is a stupid name for a dog."

I unconsciously pulled Sam a little closer to me. He made a small noise and I could practically hear him saying _Dean, you shouldn't have given up a night of fun on my behalf._

"Naw, I don't do broads with baggage anyway." And damn, I was pretty sure that was an eye roll the dog just gave me.

* * *

><p>Once we got back to the house, Dad said that Bobby had called. Apparently he knew someone who could help us. So instead of Bobby coming to us, we were going to Bobby's friend's place. It wasn't too far of a drive but if we left then, we'd show up at her place around one in the morning. So instead we decided to spend another night in our motel room.<p>

That night, I lay awake staring at the ceiling. Sam was curled up in a little ball, resting against my side. Even though he was long asleep, I was still stroking his furry head. His soft tail was wagging slightly in his sleep causing the edges of my lips to quirk up as I watched.

Sam was handling this spectacularly, but me on the other hand? I was getting pretty nervous. Don't get me wrong, I was confident we'd get Sam back, but I was worried at the cost. The reason I was confident we'd change Sam back was because I knew there was nothing I wouldn't do. If I had to make a deal with the devil himself I would, though I doubted it'd come to that. But the point is, I would if I needed to. That was what scared me. No cost was too high. The demons and shit knew it too. It was an easy weakness. They were the ones who could set the price and I would _have_ to pay it, no matter how high.

And black magic, hell any magic really, made me nervous. Mostly because it wasn't something I knew much about and it could so easily go wrong. Knowing magic was probably going to be the only way to get Sam back was not at all a comforting thought.

The thing I missed the most, strange as it sounds, was Sam's voice. Whether he was laughing at me, bitching about my music or calling my name in the night after a nightmare, they were all part of Sam. It showed that he was there and cared and still needed me. That was one of the reasons we made such a good team. We didn't have to have chick flick moments or weep onto each other's shoulders to know we cared. Simply being there, being a constant presence through the rise and fall, was enough.

"Love you, bro," I blurted out suddenly. Not sure, why it wasn't something I ever said. But at the moment it felt like I would burst if I didn't get it out there.

The empty silence only served to make me miss Sam's voice more.

TBC...


	3. Chapter 3

**Barking At The Moon  
>Part III<strong>

I shifted nervously on the porch, Sam pressed up against my chest. Dad stood in front of me, hand still raised from knocking on the dark wood. Bobby stood shoulder to shoulder with Dad.

We met up with Bobby early that morning at Libby's Diner where we stopped to grab some grub before heading over to the beautiful wooden house hidden away from the road.

The door opened and a mildly plump woman smiled cheerily at us.

"Bobby Singer as I live and breathe!" She had a slight Southern accent. A red apron was tied around her waist which she wiped her flour covered hands on.

"Laurie," Bobby said, unable to suppress the smile that slid onto his face. She pulled him forward into a hug and muttered, "Wouldn't kill you to call once in a while."

"Been busy," he said gruffly once the separated. "These," he said gesturing back to us, "are the Winchesters."

"O'course they are." Her smile was motherly and I must admit it made my heart ache a little. "You must be John?" Dad nodded and extended a hand, signaling a hug would not be an acceptable form of greeting.

If she was at all offended, she didn't show it. Instead she shook his calloused hand with gusto.

"Dean?" she asked, eyeing me. I nodded, still trying to figure this woman out. There was something about her that just made me want to trust her. And that put me more on edge, but then if Bobby trusted her…But still, I did not trust Sam to strangers, hell, I didn't turst Sam with non-strangers.

"So this cute thing must be Sam?" I nodded and held him tighter to my chest when I felt his muscles tense.

"Well don't be strangers now, come on in."

The only word I could think of to describe her house, was homey. It was clean with that lived-in feeling. Not the most stylish, but practical as well as comfortable.

We entered into a large, spacious kitchen which smelled wonderful. In the center there was an island with three bar stools. On top of the counter was a plate of brownies sitting next to a pitcher of lemonade.

"Feel free to help yourself. Bobby, the usual?"

"Yeah, and one for Johnny-boy here too." She set about preparing something for them to drink while I poured myself a glass of lemonade.

After taking a cautious sip (can't be too careful), I smacked my lips in delight. Noticing Sam eyeing the cup, I offered some to him. Out came his pink tongue – which I must admit was quite cute – and he lapped up a little. Immediately his black nose scrunched up and he pulled back.

"Too acidic for you, hun?" Laurie said while setting a bowl of water in front of Sam. "Go on," she encouraged.

He took a quick look at me for silent permission before sticking his tongue in. At first he looked surprised. Just as I was about to leap up and accuse her of trying to poison my boy, Sam leapt forward and eagerly drank more.

"What's in it?" I said suspiciously.

She laughed at my look – only causing me to glare at her – then said, "It's just strawberry flavored water, sweetie, don't worry." I bristled slightly at being called 'sweetie' but let it go.

Once Dad and Bobby both received beers, Laurie sat down across from us. While I munched away on a brownie (Holy crap those things would put even Betty Crocker to shame!) and Sam drank his strawberry water, Bobby started the story.

Bobby had come to the town for a hunt where people had been mysteriously dying. Each death – 4 in total – had benefitted both of the Larewood sisters. After finding witchcraft supplies all of the house, Bobby had been just about to gank Laurie when he realized he'd gotten the wrong sister. It hadn't taken long to track down the younger sibling before he took her out. Laurie, according to Bobby, had handled the entire thing quite well considering not only had someone killed her sister, but originally tried to kill her as well.

Once the hunt was wrapped up, Laurie had all but threatened Bobby to keep in contact. And they had, becoming quite good friends.

"Wait, so you're a witch?" I asked suspiciously. Laurie nodded, still smiling warmly, completely unaffected by my narrowed eyes and Dad's almost-glare.

Staring at the woman before him, I could hardly say she was some evil hag intent on making people miserable. But it was strange, it had always been so black and white…Witches were bad and that was that. It was unnerving to find a shade of grey in such a black and white world. And it made it nearly impossible to trust Sam's wellbeing to something that, had I met her under different circumstances, I would have killed immediately solely because she was a witch, good or not.

"We're leaving," Dad announced suddenly. All eyes – including the small puppy eyes that looked up from the bowl – turned on him.

"What?" Bobby and I asked at the same time.

"Dean, get your brother." I obediently scooped Sam up, ignoring his glare, and rose from the table to follow Dad to the door.

I heard Laurie ask something, exactly what I couldn't make out, and Bobby said gruffly to "stay there" while he sorted it out.

"John, what the hell do you think you're doing? Do you want a dog for a son for the rest of your life?"

"No, of course not, but I'd rather have him as a dog than not have him at all."

"And what is that supposed to mean?" Both Sam and I followed the conversation with our eyes like it was some interesting tennis match.

"She's a witch, Bobby, who knows what sort of freaky shit she could do to Sam and we'd have no idea until it was too late!" Valid point.

"I trust her, John, she wouldn't harm a fly, let alone your boy!" Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Laurie appear at the end of the hallway to the kitchen where she stood nervously. Dad still didn't look happy, but Bobby started again before Dad could. "Look, John, I understand where you're coming from, but she's your only chance," he said softly. "You really think you'd be better off trying this shit on your own?"

There was about ninety seconds of silence before Dad quietly said, "Okay." I was surprised. Even though Bobby had won me over, I didn't expect Dad to back down. Guy was stubborn like that.

We all went back to the kitchen and took our seats. Dad muttered an apology to Laurie who dismissed it with a smile.

* * *

><p>"Are you ready?" Laurie asked. All of us nodded except Sam who somehow managed to look nervous in dog form. Nervousness flooded me like a tidal wave. This was it. Laurie was going to turn Sam back – well I assumed that was what she was doing since I didn't understand anything she was doing.<p>

"Alright, Sam, you come here – yes, that's right, now stick your paw in, yes, yes very good. So here we go." I reached out and gave Sam a quick stroke on the head before settling back into my place.

Laurie's hand hovered over Sam as she recited an incantation from the sheet before her. A soft blue glow emanated from Sam's dog body and he looked down at himself comically. In one sharp moment, the light pulsed out, blinding us all, then disappeared completely.

Blinking a couple of times, I found myself looking at my very human (and very naked) little brother sprawled out on the floor. He blinked a couple times then brought his hand forth in front of his face to inspect it.

"Uh, Sam?" He looked over at me and I nodded towards him, causing him to look down. He let out a little cry and scrambled to cover his pale body up. Taking pity on the poor boy, Laurie passed him a blanket from the back of the couch.

"Welcome back," Bobby said with a grin. Sam, head hanging down, sent him a shy smile as he looked up through his fringe.

"No wonder you were a border collie," Laurie said. "Tall, skinny, energetic, smart, loyal – fits you like a glove!" Sam's face colored a bit from the praise.

"Well, I think it's time we head out," Dad said.

Half an hour later – after I fetched Sam some clothes from the car – we stood at the door about to depart. Bobby was spending another night there (which I had teased him mercilessly about).

"Thank you," Dad said curtly and I nodded in agreement.

"Anytime, you boys need any help in the future, don't hesitate to stop by." Dad turned and climbed in the car. I was almost off the porch when I heard Sam quietly say, "Thank you," in that soft voice that made women of all ages fawn over him.

"Don't worry about it, Sam."

"It was nice meeting you." Always one to use manners, Sam extended a hand, but Laurie moved forward and pulled Sam into a hug. Finally she let go of Sam and I could swear I saw a tear in her eye.

"You take care of yourselves now!" Sam nodded as he climbed into the back seat of the impala.

As I stared at the passing scenery, I couldn't help but think over things. For the first time in my life, I was questioning my dad. Maybe it had been Sam who had been right all along. Maybe the world wasn't only black and white.

Maybe there were shades of grey.

**The End**


End file.
